REBECCA JAYNE

(2 yrs of age)

Observing the precarious

existence

of household plants

swiftly followed by

the sideways glance

at buttered scones –

aroused by appetites

of taste and touch and sight –

she reaches out to clutch

the flower, trembling

with anticipation of the feel

or knowledge of restraining hands.

Seeking adulation

with every tentative step –

the pleasure of each stretch

a fleeting reminiscence

of the unencumbered state

of birthday grace.

                       Malcolm Evison

 FELL FALL

Mist mellows, swathes

the bracken waste, moves

mountains and retrieves

a shadow of their former state –

a throbbing sigh, veiled certainty.

Prey to this cold allure

the crag-fast fear subsides:

tamed by its achromatic spell

the enthralled mind contrives

a vision which can penetrate

the substance of the rock. Unlock

the memories of strange

remoter climes; time lost

in mystery, fusing the venerated

past with present vulnerability.

Mist swathes the bracken waste,

tastes history, mellows and moves

a range of fells, slowly retrieves

a shadow of their former state –

veiled certainty, a subdued sigh.

                           Malcolm Evison

SEPTEMBER SONG

Time past time yet to be

Discovered. I gaze out

Across the hills, the scene changes

Image merges into image. The clouds devour

The openness; still it is growing

No-one can capture the full and flowing

Taste of life, no-one has time enough

To even care. We do

What we must do to pass the time,

But why not more of it – just take it

Let it grow from us.

The sky grows, my eyes close

Once again. Trees and open fields,

Wind tears them all –

This one this all is mine

I breathe, I grow.

                      Malcolm Evison

RE-AFFIRMED

mid-afternoon -

the cloud breaks gently

to reveal

a semblance of

the sun’s real glare

I see

my first full shadow

of the day

and now I  surely know

that I am here

re-affirmed

                          Malcolm Evison

                           5 July 2008

This poem is a spontaneous sequel to GREY DAY published on Mal's Factory earlier this afternoon.

THE GIFT

Today is all my bygone days

this evening is the dawn

                     of my eternity,

of loving faces, smiling eyes

of touching fingers

sliding carefree

                      down the mossy slopes

of always never.

Only then, will I see you smile,

only now, do I feel your tears

gliding down

                    the deities

and landing on their feet

of clay.

Today is mis-spent hours

wasting into

                  the gilt and glory

that was youth –

no symbols,

                  only words,

softly spoken by the pollen

freely given to the bee.

And I receive them

gratefully –

feeling the touch of your fingers

through my shroud

of fear.

                          Malcolm Evison

                           1969

*********************************

another poem, LISTENING TO STOCKHAUSEN ... , has been posted on 'Mal's Factory'

NEW DAY

This first pale ribbon

weaves a range of hills –

slowly the morning light

conceives a multitude

of forms –

retrieves a certainty

from the dark night’s womb.

Seized by the silent sun

the skyline seethes –

the darkness winnowed

from interstices of trees.

*********

The sun ascends

to break the bough –

my chosen silver branch

dissolves into

a maze of silhouettes –

the fire

invisibly suspended.

                                Malcolm Evison

Just been sifting through a few more old working drafts of poems. This was the 10th untitled draft of this particular poem but, the sense was so evident I felt it worth retrieving.

             DOLEFUL BLUES

             (Just One Of Maggie’s Victims)

He seeks and fails to find

the semblance of

his once bright hope.

The family sleeps, he lies

awake, perhaps

a few untruths could make

an honest man of him.

Purveyor of unwanted skills,

he sifts through all

the cut-price vacancies –

prepares to swallow principle

as well as pride.

                   Malcolm Evison

                    14 July 1987

NEED IS A PURPOSE

Need is a purpose

whose thirst is never slaked

whose drive

is always onwards.

When met

it fails to recognize

its own fulfilment;

it yields

to further craving,

swallows its own desire,

breathes hope

(in striding forward)

and fear

of failing, falling short

of our unknown goal

Malcolm Evison

25 April 2008

TRANSFORMED (for Helen)

 Right now I feel

the urge to scream

forget the aching limbs

dance deftly

on the brim

of my emotions.

Right now

I feel the lure of love

the light

that breaches

my stoical defence.

I see your face

I glow with joy -

right now

there is no you or I

as we rejoice.

Right now I am

alive with you -

I feel -

imbibe the air of this

our perfect world.

 Malcolm Evison

THE YO-YO MAN

Whirling, it made the day
seem shorter than
all other days had been.

It sang and leapt
at his fine tuned command;
his finger tingled,

as the loop pulled tight.
He winced a smile. For now,
he'd thrown his cares away;

next time, perhaps,
he'd simply let them go.

             Malcolm Evison

UNVEILING      [ for DH ]

Some days, a few words

scribbled down in haste,

a simple melody, a subtle

turn of phrase, unclothes

another’s world. And there,

beneath a supple shell, you find

a heart that bleeds;

it seeds itself beneath

the skin, you share the pain,

then seek to radiate the joy

their presence in the world

discloses. Some days you know

that you are not alone. The wave

that rises, through the words and song,

washes away your frown. You share

a smile, a caring strength;

you know your world

can never be the same.

Sometimes, a word of thanks reveals

that we can overcome;

sometimes a body sings the joy

of sharing; sometimes

we simply share

the pain of caring.

                                     Malcolm Evison  

TRAVELLING

When he travelled

His thoughts remained

At home.

He often felt

Estranged from all

He saw

But seldom

Dwelt upon

His own shortcomings.

Sometimes his thoughts

Took flight, but then he felt

Unable to depart

From his fixed

Certainties.

Well travelled,

He discovered

The value

Of remaining here.

Malcolm Evison

NIGHT SHIFTS

Aimlessly walking through

the quiet town, an echo

painlessly affirms belonging.

Night falls;

the day disintegrates -

all reference fails.

I cannot wrap this world

in meaning. Slowly it burns

out the old images, the worn

words, the soiled. This is

the turning point; the nights

calm trodden underfoot.

Hold out your hands;

capture a fragment

of the neon-splintered

sky. A window brightly

shouts its wares.

Stares

into darkness

and reveals

its own banality.

                                       Malcolm Evison (1978)

FLOCKS AND CONGREGATIONS

A darkly brooding

Congregation

Of cumuli glowers

Overhead

Threatens to destroy

Our horizon

A neighbouring flock

Glows brightly

Caressed by the sun

We ignore the gloom

And drive

Towards the light

                                                                                     Malcolm Evison

7 September 2007

RAINDROPS KEEP FALLING OVERHEAD

Full-bounce, full taps -

the odd rim-shot

snapped out –

the rapping rain asserts